


Sangria

by kay_emm_gee



Series: Four Corners [4]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Flirting, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-11
Updated: 2015-10-11
Packaged: 2018-04-25 19:48:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4973770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kay_emm_gee/pseuds/kay_emm_gee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wick never felt particularly opinionated about sangria, not until he tasted it on Raven’s lips. Then, well, it might be the best flavor in the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sangria

**Author's Note:**

> Title and story based on Sangria by Blake Shelton, which was the song that inspired me to write this series in the first place. So, full circle and what have you.

The slurp of Raven sucking up the last of her drink made Wick smile, especially the way her sharp cheeks hollowed out and her lips curved up in satisfaction. When the noise continued for far longer than it should, with her bopping her head in time with the steelpan beat, he laughed.

“What are you, four?” He teased, tugging the glass out of her grip before setting it on the tiki bar. The hotel bartender whisked it away almost immediately, as they were some of the last guests still around.

Still biting on the straw, Raven wiggled her jaw, and the straw wiggled along with the motion, flinging drops of sangria across his face.

“That’s a yes,” he muttered, wiping it off with the crook of his elbow.

He didn’t miss the way Raven’s eyes darted appreciatively to his bicep, which, okay, was looking a lot better than in the past. So maybe he’d been working out, ever since the invitation for the Griffin-Blake beach wedding extravaganza had arrived in the mail. Well, ever since the invitation had arrived and Raven had asked him if he was going too. Because they had been friends for a year now, actual friends, the type who could go to a mutual friends’ wedding together-but-not-together and be totally cool about it. That’s where Wick was with her, and he was okay with it. Mostly.

“You’re the one who kept talking through the whole ceremony because you couldn’t handle, you know, _emotions_  about our friends getting married,” Raven shot back.

“You were laughing right along with me, wrench monkey.”

Even now Raven was fighting a smile, no doubt recalling how she had used her tissues to stifle her giggles, instead of a sob. It had been funny, right up until Bellamy and Clarke had choked up during their vows, and Raven had clutched at his hand. He could still feel the pressure of her strong but delicate fingers crushed around his knuckles, and his smile softened as she cocked her head at him.

“What?” She questioned, leaning an elbow on the edge of the bar.

“Nothing,” he replied, turning on his stool to face the wall of liquor bottles, leis, and palm fronds. The sound of the ocean crashing on the beach echoed from behind them, and the salty breeze was a welcome relief from the mugginess stagnating in the open-air bar.

He grunted when something sharp poked his ear. Raven laughed as she jiggled the straw at him. Even though he grumbled and swiped it from her hand, Wick couldn’t stop a warm, fizzy feeling from filling his chest. Worry wasn’t something that clouded her gaze here; her stress about grant funding and post-graduate employment seemed to have blown away on the tropical breeze. Relaxed was a good look on her—but then again, she didn’t have many bad looks in his book.  

“You’re in a good mood,” he drawled. “Just how much did you have to drink?”

“Our friends just got married. Of course I’m in a good mood. And only two glasses all night. Which is one more than you’ve had. Weakling,” she announced in delight.

Wick wasn’t about to tell her that he wasn’t drinking because her very presence made his thoughts muddled enough without the addition of alcohol. They were friends, and friends didn’t make your brain go numb.  “And where did the Griffin-Blake’s go off to now?”

Raven grinned widely and patted his arm. “You sweet innocent child. They left a while ago. Do you not know what happens on the wedding night?”

Her fingers danced a little too long there. Though heat spread across his skin at the touch, he just rolled his eyes. “I know what happens, Reyes. I am very well acquainted with those types of activities. I’d even venture to say I’m a fair expert at them.”

When he glanced over at Raven again, she had straightened up, clarity in her bright eyes. His pulse quickened at the sight.

“Really?” She enunciated.

He swiveled around to face her again, leaning back a little on the bar as he took her in. Her green dress and curled brown hair glowed in the light of the many torches planted in the sand around them, making his breath catch. “Really.”

“Then show me.”

Wick nearly swallowed his tongue when Raven slid off of her seat and walked between his parted legs, grazing her fingertips over the tops of his thighs.

“Wrench monkey,” he warned.

Her lips twisted up into an amused smile. “Wick.”

“Raven,” he murmured when she placed one of her hands on the side of his jaw.

“Kyle,” she breathed, then pressed her lips to his.

They were cool, but the way they moved insistently against his increasingly greedy ones made every other part of him burn hot, then hotter. Her arms wrapped around his neck when his hands gripped her hips, tugging her in closer. Humming, she arched against him, letting her tongue run along the seam of his mouth. Giddy, he opened for her, and sharp, fruity tanginess burst across his taste buds.

Sangria. She tasted like sangria, and it was the best flavor in the whole world, he decided.

They were both breathless when she pulled away. Her fingers played idly with the hair at the nape of his neck, sending shivers down his spine, before she whispered, “Okay. You  _are_  good at that.”

“Told you so,” he gloated, then groaned when Raven nipped his bottom lip in retaliation.

“And if I want to see what else you’re good at?”

He didn’t even try to mask his incredulity when he sputtered out, “Really?”

She laughed, knocking her forehead into his. “Yes, moron. Why do you think I’m still sitting with you at this empty tiki bar that serves very shitty sangria?”

“I thought it tasted pretty good—”

The rest of his words were swallowed by another kiss from Raven, and after a minute, he stood up, hands sliding around to her lower back. Bending her, he enjoyed the press of her against his thighs, his chest. Pleasure surged through him at the way she rolled against him, giving as good as she got.

“My room or yours?” She mumbled, not quite stopping their lip-lock.

“Don’t care,” he replied immediately, tugging her backwards and away from the bar.

She laughed, then kissed him briefly again before dancing off towards the elevators. They continued like that, kissing and laughing and stumbling through the hotel on their way upstairs. When she slammed him against the back of the elevators, sucking on his collarbone, he didn’t even register his sunglasses falling from his belt loop.

Raven did, though, bending over to pick them up. She placed them on her head, then flicked them down over her eyes with a smug smile.

“Mine now,” she joked, wavering them up and down the bridge of her nose.

Wick’s chest expanded at the sight, and her use of the word  _mine._  She didn’t mean it like he wanted her too, but he had no desire to rush things. It had taken them a long time to get here, to get to a place where she actually wanted him, and he didn’t  _need_ her to want him. They were on equal footing, finally, and he wasn’t about to chase her off with thoughts of something more permanent. At least not at the moment.

So he slowly adjusted the sunglasses until they were perched on the crown of her head again, his fingers toying with her mussed hair. Then he pulled her in for long, slow kiss. He chuckled when the elevator bell dinged and she didn’t move, just kept teasing her hands under the hem of his shirt. With dramatic, overly-large steps, he maneuvered her backwards and waggled his eyebrows at her. Raven threw her head back in laughter, shimming her shoulders in response.

“You’re ridiculous,” he muttered into the soft spot beneath her ear when they slammed into his door.

“Just get us inside,” she huffed, wriggling against him impatiently.

He choked out a laugh, heat and pressure gathering at the base of his spine. How he got the door open and them both inside, Wick didn’t know. However, he was fully aware of the moment his shirt was rucked up and discarded, with his pants and Raven’s dress following quickly afterwards.

Her skin pressed warmly against his, and then it was gone, and he was falling, bouncing back onto the mattress.

“Of course,” he groaned teasingly, watching her climb up onto the bed and straddle him. “Like you’d be any less bossy in bed than in the workshop.”

She grinned down at him, but when his hands fell on the sides of her knees, she froze.

“What?” He asked, propping himself up on his elbows.

“Stupid fucking thing,” she muttered, sitting back onto his legs, glaring at her brace.

“Oh.” He hadn’t even noticed it, but he was noticing the way Raven was avoiding his gaze.

“Raven,” he said gently.

She didn’t reply, so he waited, stroking his thumbs against her skin and a strap of the brace.

“I can’t be—it’s not good for my knee,” she finally bit out.

“C’mere,” he murmured, lacing their fingers together before pulling her down, then rolling them over.

Leaning down, he pressed a careful kiss to her brace, then stretched up, bracing their hands over her head.

“You’re still in charge,” Wick said, staring straight into her eyes, which were shining with a challenge and vulnerability all at once. “You call the shots, tell me what to do.”

The way her lips parted in surprise made his heart squeeze, like there was a vise from one of their workstations banded around it.

“Yeah?” She asked quietly.

“Yeah,” he said, lips curving up into a tiny smile.

Reaching up, Raven grazed her lips against his, once, twice, then claimed his mouth hard and fast, tightening her grip on his hands.

“Kiss me,” she murmured. “Just keep kissing me.”

He obliged her first instruction of the night, and the rest he followed just as easily, bringing them together in a way they never had before, in a way he never thought they would get to be. Happiness settled deep in his tired muscles as he fell asleep with Raven in his arms, and it was still there, as was she, when he blinked awake in the bright sunlight of the humid island morning.

“So did I live up to my claims?” He inquired as she turned over to face him, a shy smile on her still sleepy face.

“Yes, you won this round, Wick,” she teased.

He couldn’t help but smile at the twinkling amusement and satisfaction in her eyes, but something more serious settled in his gut as he continued to look at her. “You know this is more than a game to me, right?”

She pursed her lips. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Sighing, he pressed quick kiss to her forehead. “Nothing. Just—I’m cool if this is a one-time thing. Completely. But.”

“But,” she said carefully.

“But I’d be okay with more, too.”

It was out there, the gauntlet he hadn’t meant to throw down. If he could take it back, he might, because he could see, and feel, the levity drain out of the girl in his arms.

“Forget it,” he muttered, drumming his fingers against her side. “That was stupid of me. Though you do know I’m not a morning person.”

He quirked a weak smile at her, but Raven just sat up, staring at him contemplatively.

“Kyle,” she said, and he froze, both at the use of his name, and the way her fingers came up to dance across his cheek.

His throat was so dry that he could barely rasp out, “Yeah?”

“I’d be okay with more.”

“Oh thank god.”

Raven laughed, ducking her head and sending tangled strands of brown hair everywhere.

“Dick,” she murmured before leaning down to kiss him.

It was a few minutes, a few glorious minutes of slowly enjoying the feel of their bodies moving against one another, before he breathed, “I prefer Kyle.”

With a snort, Raven said, “I know, and I don’t care.”

“Fair enough,” Wick said with a shrug and smile, then flipped them over, laughing at Raven’s surprised shriek.

He really didn’t care what she called him, because he was hers. And that was something he could get used to being called, most definitely.


End file.
